Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Tuesday 5: Porch Chickens and Root Beer

1. Today started ridiculously early. Arthur Dent woke me up around 5:30 and then Amelia Earhart burst in at 6:00 with a bloody nose. That was it. Up and at ‘em. The day went on  with Laura Ingalls Wilder only napping for about 30 minutes. All in all, it was a wicked combination. It seems as though at least one kid was crying at any given point in the day. By the end of the day, it was obvious that success would have nothing to do with anything but me managing to keep everyone alive. It’s now 8 p.m., everyone had dinner, the house is only sort of messy, and all four Little Explorers are tucked in. I win!

2. One time, I read that the appropriate number of times to vacuum per week is the number of people in your family plus one. So, for the Intrigue Family, that equals seven. Seven. If there were but one more Intrigue in our family, I would officially never be caught up.

3. Today, I found out that Mrs. British Neighbor has never had root beer. I assured her we would be remedying this as soon as possible. She then asked me a question that I had no answer for. “What does it taste like?” Fellow Adventurers, how would you describe that taste? I was dumbstruck. “Like…Liiiike….root beer? I don’t know? Root beer is a flavor unto itself.” I can describe lots of different cola type flavors. Dr. Pepper is cola with a hint of prune. Kik, the cola of Sri Lanka, is a more acrid flavor of cola. In India, their cola is called Thums Up and it is cola with a hint of anise/black licorice flavor. Cheerwine, that southern cola, tastes like it’s been spiked with cherry cough syrup. But, how do you describe root beer? I do not know.

4. We’ve discussed loveys before, but here’s a new one. Laura Ingalls Wilder has a tiny stuffed penguin named Sumo. She loves Sumo and always has. It used to be she was perfectly happy sleeping with her arm around Sumo and leaving him in the crib for the day. Suddenly, lately, he has to go everywhere with her. Everywhere. As a precaution, The International Man of Intrigue suggested I order a spare Sumo from Amazon. I did, and he arrived today. Conveniently enough, the “real” Sumo needed a bath. I pried him from Laura Ingalls Wilder’s hands and tossed him into the wash. Laura Ingalls Wilder, who, to reiterate, had almost no nap, instantly started wailing. I decided to try out the backup. Laura Ingalls Wilder grabbed him and instantly recoiled. She held him out and seemed puzzled. She ran two fingers across new Sumo’s tummy, and got a disgusted look on her face. “Soooooot.” In Laura Ingalls Wilder speak, that’s “soft,” said with utmost revulsion. She wanted nothing to do with the new, soft Sumo, she wanted the slightly rough feeling, pilled fabric of old Sumo. Skipping to the good part, by bedtime, Laura Ingalls Wilder had TWO Sumos. I tried to take new Sumo away, and she screamed. I tried to take old Sumo away, and she screamed. She went to bed with her arm tucked tight around two Sumos. Sigh. I will have to sneak one out while she’s asleep. 

5. Today, I was reminded that when I was just out of college, my parents had a chicken that lived on their front porch for a while. We named it Chicken Art. It was thusly named sarcastically after my friend, Art, who mocked Chicken Art. That’s awkward because now we sometimes call Arthur Dent by the nickname Art, and I told the kids the story of Chicken Art without thinking of it today. Now, I’m mostly hoping the kids forget the story of Chicken Art, or Arthur Dent is going to have it used against him by his older sisters. When that happens, I don’t win at parenting.

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